Category: Humor

Malcolm Applegate’s life was all fine and dandy until shortly after he got married, when he realized his wife was absolutely the type of woman who deserves to be ghosted

Via emmaus.org.uk:

The more work I took on, the angrier my wife got – she didn’t like me being out of the house for long periods of time. The controlling behaviour started to get out of hand and she demanded that I cut my hours. After a long time trying to stay in the marriage, I decided to leave for good. Without a word to anyone, not even family, I packed up and left… I went missing for 10 years.

On leaving, I camped in thick woodland near Kingston, and made that home for five years while maintaining the gardens at a local community centre for the elderly.

You know you’re a terrible significant other when your partner would rather crap in the woods and go without hot water and regular meals for a decade than spent another second with you.

The revamped Ghostbusters theme by Fallout Boy and Missy Elliott is being celebrated around the world for its originality and powerful, thought-provoking message about busting caps in ghost’s asses. It’s a contender for Best Original Song at next year’s Academy Awards and has already received praise from artists like Yo-Yo Ma and Randy Newman, who are both kicking themselves for rejecting the offer to compose “Ghostbusters (I’m Not Afraid).”

“This generation’s ‘Amazing Grace,’ Newman told the New York Times.

Obviously I’m human and can’t resist singing “I’m not afraid” at my apartment’s swimming pool at the top of my lungs in a Stay Puft Marshmallow Man bikini, but I’m of the more purist opinion that no song written for a movie can ever compare to Vanilla Ice‘s “Ninja Rap (Go Ninja Go)” from the Scorsese classic, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze.

There you have it. Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump and the Fallout Boyz are relevant and Missy Elliott doesn’t need a paycheck.

The beach alongside the Disney World lagoon where a young boy was drowned by an alligator has reopened with “heightened security,” including a before-sunset curfew and signs that read “You should have gone to California instead.”

Justtt kidding. The signs actually say, “Danger! Alligators and snakes in area. Stay away from the water. Do not feed the wildlife.”

Safety precautions or not, you couldn’t pay me to visit, because Florida is home to an estimated 1.5 million alligators and just as many venomous spiders and snakes. It’s also hot, crowded and full of young people that are way better looking than you and old people who are so close to death you don’t know if they’re talking to you or an invisible deceased relative in the corner.

Let me tell you a story.

I grew up near this golf course that was constantly flooding and full of red-winged blackbirds. People like my mom and all our hippie dippy friends were always trying to get the forest service to buy the land and just let it be what it was meant to be, but it never happened.

The entire state of Florida is the equivalent of that golf course, a giant natural wetland that we — a bunch of stupid humans — couldn’t resist building on. Except instead of harmless chirping blackbirds and cattails, they have gigantic teeth-gnashing reptiles that eat children. We have no right to be mad at anyone but ourselves because we displaced them, not the other way around.

Speaking of the macabre and unnecessary, a reported 240 alligators have been slaughtered by Fish and Wildlife in the past 10 years around The Most Magical Place On Earth. The commission, which is currently sold out of Statewide Alligator Harvest Program permits, also wants us to feel better now that they’re “confident” they killed the very same alligator that devoured 2-year-old Lane Graves on June 16.

No! Alligators are like grey pubic hairs. You pull one out, and three more come to the funeral and ruin your plans. The solution is to drug and blindfold all the Floridians and ship them to Arizona (it’ll be days before they even notice).

Excuse me, all Floridians except the Trump supporters.

Build a giant wall on the Southern borders of Alabama and Georgia, and let the scaly, bloodthirsty creatures have the state of Florida.

Hello, 18 through 30-year old Democrats that aren’t necessarily feeling “The Bern.” Some might call me a hipster (though I’m pretty most of those are definitely feeling it), but there’s this thing called popularity that I’ve always been wary of. People say, “Hey, see that guy you’d never heard of until 2015? You should totally vote for him.” And I’m like, “Hmm, why?” And they’re like “I dunno. He’s cool! And like, for the people.” Something something money, something something corruption and stuff.

A friend invited me to a Sanders rally and I contemplated going for all of two seconds and then realized that even though I had nothing better to do, I couldn’t consciously attend this event without knowing exactly who this guy was.

Like Sarah Silverman, I’d always been a tried and true Hillary fan, and now that I actually do know more about dear Bernie, I’m still Team Clinton.

The biggest, least-talked about reason America needs Hill and Bill back in the White House is simple: revenge. As soon as Hillary perches her sweet pearls-and-pantsuit-wearing self in that beautifully upholstered Oval Office chair she can start doing what her husband did when he was president, and that, my friends, is GET LAID.

Once elected, Hillary is totes going to get her motherfucking Lewinsky on. Having phone sex with Justin Trudeau while shirtless male interns take turns going down on her. Or taking Air Force One to East Asia to put a piping hot cigar up Kim Jong-un’s tight Korean ass. Perhaps a hot lesbian affair with Sarah Palin? Or an equally amazing round of JELL-O wrestling with Palin, Coulter, Bachmann and Davis?

With permission from his dom, Bill may sometimes be allowed to watch. (Participation is an express no-go.)

So you heard that Emma Watson and Prince Harry are an item, yes? Well, they’re not. Firstly, Watson is a classy young broad who I’d like to believe has much better taste than that, and second, she said so on Twitter (sort of).

But then again, I wanted to believe that Hermione Granger wouldn’t fall for a certain sweet-yet-clueless ginger with a knack for being dead weight when people are busy trying their hardest to destroy Voldemort. Lesson: anyone lacking the last name “Potter” or “Radcliffe” is a bad choice for her.

Here’s what Watson had to say on social media about not dating a full-blood prince:

WORLD ♥ Remember that little talk we had about not believing everything written in the media?!

The oldest woman in Europe and fifth oldest in the world, 115-year-old Italian-born Emma Moranotells the New York Times she believes she’s cruised through three centuries because of her diet, which has included three raw eggs a day since adolescence, and her decision never to remarry.